


Indiana Bergara and the Treasure of Shane Madej

by hapakitsune



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: First Time, Forrest Fenn episode, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Treasure Hunting, maybe the real treasure was the porn we wrote along the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 04:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16110719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: Two men walk into a forest. "We're looking for buried treasure," they say. There's no answer, so they go back to their rooms and have sex about it.





	Indiana Bergara and the Treasure of Shane Madej

**Author's Note:**

> look there's [a distinct Moment](https://youtu.be/SsuWS6yE478?t=14m6s) in the Forrest Fenn episode where I swear to god we see Shane Madej go through a sexual crisis live on film. 
> 
> keep it secret, keep it safe; this is as fictional as Forrest Fenn's treasure (he's a lying bastard that's my theory) and intended to be read as such.

Shane should have gotten the clue when Ryan refused to let him see his “treasure hunting” outfit in advance. Should have gotten _a_ clue, anyway—if he was honest, he was kind of expecting a repeat of the Salem costume incident. He was fully prepared to see Ryan with an eyepatch and a pirate hat.

“No, no, go sit,” Ryan said after Shane had modeled his extremely practical vest and hat. (“To protect my lily-white skin and to carry clues!” he’d said, patting one of the many pockets in the vest.) “Make sure TJ gets this reveal.”

“Oh yeah, wouldn’t want to miss that,” Shane said, but he went back to sit on the end of his hotel bed. He rambled at the camera for a bit about what’d do with the treasure if they found it, which all would probably get cut but hey, never hurt to have extra b-roll. He could faintly hear the sound of Ryan moving about in the bathroom and what sounded like the clatter of the complimentary toiletries falling off the sink. Shane considered making a ghost joke, but decided Ryan probably wouldn’t be able to hear him and that would just ruin the pacing of the thing.

Finally, the bathroom door clicked open and Ryan asked, “Are you ready to go?” as he emerged.

Shane turned to look at him and heard something pop. He was pretty sure it was a blood vessel. Was his nose bleeding? Isn’t that what happened when cartoon girls saw a cute boy? Because Jesus tapdancing Christ, Ryan looked good. No one had the right to look that good while dressed as a knock off Indiana Jones, but that open-collared white shirt, the pants hugging his hips, the self-satisfied smirk below the hat—fuck off, he thought, staring at the delicate line of Ryan’s collarbone peeking out beneath the crisp white edge of his shirt, and oh fuck, they were filming this and he had been silent for a solid five seconds at least, just staring, and there is a camera watching him and filming his reaction to show to the whole internet. Ryan was saying something about

_SAY SOMETHING_ , his brain screamed at him. _LITERALLY ANYTHING. STOP STARING. MAKE A JOKE. ONE JOKE. YOU CAN DO JOKES._

“Dress for the job you want, right?” Ryan said, throwing a leather jacket on and smiling at Shane.

_Okay here it comes, the joke. You’ve got this, Shane. You make jokes._ “Haha,” Shane said. “Yeah.”

_THAT’S THE BEST YOU GOT?_ his brain shouted. _HAHA YEAH? WHO ARE YOU? ARE YOU POSSESSED?  
_  
“Yeah, well, don’t laugh, you look like Owen Grady,” Ryan said, grinning, one hand on his goddamn hip. Jesus fuck, Shane needs to get _out_ of this room. The smell of Ryan’s leather jacket filled the air between them. “From Jurassic World. You happy with that look?”

“I’m happy with my look.”

“Are ya?”

“I’m actually pretty happy with yours too,” Shane said, and immediately hated himself.

“Just think—when they take our picture for the paper, this is what we’re gonna be wearing.”

Shane had a sudden vision of them on the front page of a newspaper with Ryan beaming and holding a treasure box while Shane stared longingly at the vee of skin exposed between the wings of Ryan’s collar. “Yep,” he said. “Definitely.”

“You okay, man?” Ryan asked, squinting up at him. From the angle of his superior height, Shane could see down the front of Ryan’s shirt—not much, but enough to make him feel like a perv and also deeply, he had to face it, horny. “Did you eat some bad hotdogs?”

“Just ready to do some treasure hunting,” Shane said, firmly turning away so he’d stop staring.

* * *

 

The treasure hunting itself was not as glamorous as he’d imagined. He thought treasure hunting, he thought the scene from the end of _National Treasure_ where they open the vault and see a vast room of treasure, or the scene from _National Treasure_ where Nicholas Cage uses Ben Franklin’s bifocals to read the back of the Declaration of Independence, or the scene in _National Treasure_ where they press one part of a wall and the entire thing opens up to reveal a secret passageway. Basically, he pictured _National Treasure_ , but more historically accurate.

Instead, it was a lot of walking and staring at grass. “This is going to be really fun to edit,” Shane said as they hiked down through a hill from their second stop on the road. “Do we want shots of this shrub or this one?”

“We could speed it up, make everyone watch us at hyperspeed,” Ryan said. He was still perky, occasionally pulling out his phone to look at his notes. “Come on, Shane. Unimaginable riches await us.”

“I mean, it would be nice,” Shane said. “You could finally pay off all your parking tickets.”

“I’m an excellent driver and you know it. Okay, this way!” And off Ryan went, branches and leaves crackling underfoot.

As the day dragged on, though, Ryan’s energy began to flag, especially when the heat got a bit much with the leather jacket. “This may have been a mistake,” he said, taking it off and draping it over one shoulder. Shane, who could see the muscles of Ryan’s abs through the sunlit fabric, heartily agreed.

“Hey, so,” Shane said a little while later, when they’d wandered a bit ahead of the cameras and were just using their go pros as they went through some underbrush, “if you were Forrest Fenn, or whatever, and had just had a big scare, what would you hide in the woods?”

“I wouldn’t hide anything in the woods,” Ryan said. “Maybe my sneaks? But actually I think I want to be buried with them.”

“Okay, so no hidden treasure, but, like, what would be your big epiphany thing?” Shane asked. “Because my instinct would be to travel the world, not hide some of my wealth. Seems an odd choice.”

“People do weird things when they’re faced with mortality,” Ryan said. “I mean, it’s weird, but he’s lived a pretty full life, right? I guess this is how he thought he’d create a legacy.”

“Yeah, yeah. There is something to the idea that maybe in a hundred years someone who knows nothing about him will trip over it.”

“Right? That’s kind of cool!” Ryan glanced over his shoulder, grinning. “When I was a kid, I totally wanted to be an archaeologist for a hot second. You know, finding these things people left behind. Their memories.”

“Instead, you became a ghost hunter,” Shane said.

“The two aren’t so disconnected,” Ryan said. “It’s about what you leave behind. And don’t get started on your ghost thing, let me just have that.”

“Okay,” Shane conceded. “I see it.”

“So you’d travel, huh?” Ryan bent down, poked at a rock, then stood. “Anywhere in particular?”

“I mean, that was just an example.” Shane squinted through the trees for a blaze of white. “You know, just get around to doing the things I’ve been putting off.”

“Ah, the old bucket list.” Ryan nodded sagely. “Catch up on old grudges, solve the Zodiac, tell your crush you’re in love with them, that kind of thing.”

Shane whipped around, but Ryan wasn’t looking at him. “Yeah,” Shane said. “Something like that.”

* * *

“Well, that was a bust,” Ryan said as he flopped down onto his hotel bed, “but I think it’s going to be a great ep.”

Shane shut the hotel door behind him. “We should do the post-mortem dressed up like we found it,” he said. “Walk in suave and shit.”

“Ooh, good idea.” Ryan starfished his arms and legs out, then began to shimmy out of his jacket without getting up. “What should we tell people at work?”

“Let them guess,” Shane said, heading into the bathroom to splash some water on his overheated face. “Us not immediately quitting will probably be a good clue, though.”

“But those benefits!” There was the soft thump of Ryan’s jacket hitting the floor. “I need that vision plan.”

“Ah yes,” Shane said, “the wheel of capitalism churns on.” He wiped his face off and came out of the bathroom to find Ryan unbuttoning his shirt. “Uh,” he said.

“I sweated up a storm in this thing, what was I _thinking_ ,” Ryan said. He got his shirt all the way open and tugged the ends out of his waistband. Shane couldn’t move, rooted to the spot like he’d been nailed there. Ryan’s skin was glistening with sweat, which should be disgusting but was, instead, the most arousing thing Shane had ever seen in his life. Ryan wasn’t cut like a movie star, but he had a _bod_ , and Shane wanted to lick it.

“Ungh,” Shane said instead of saying anything remotely coherent. _Don’t look at me don’t look at me_ , he mentally chanted at Ryan. _Don’t look at me until I get my shit together which might not be until next year but that’s just for the best—_

“Shane?” Ryan asked, looking over. His gaze traveled over Shane, from his no-doubt stunned fish expression, down to his clenched fists and the unmistakable bulge at his crotch.

_RUN,_ Shane’s brain screamed. _RUN OUT OF THE ROOM RIGHT NOW._

Shane didn’t move.

Ryan’s eyebrows crept up. So did the corners of his mouth. “Hey bud,” he said slowly. “See something you like?”

_THIS IS FINE!_ Shane’s brain shouted. _MAKE IT A JOKE! IT’S A JOKE IT’S FUNNY MAKE A FUNNY SHANE—_ “Yeah,” Shane said.

_YOU FUCKING MORON_ , his brain said.

“The whole Indiana Bergara thing turn you on?” Ryan asked. “Should I get a whip and really make things interesting?”

His voice was light, teasing. Shane wanted to die. He clenched his fists tighter, until his fingernails were digging into his palms, and took a deep breath. “I can go stay in another room,” he said jerkily. “I’ll switch with TJ—you can say I snore or something—” and he started for the door.

Ryan was up and in front of him faster than seemed humanly possible. His shirt was hanging open, exposing his whole goddamned chest—and now Shane knew, up close, how Ryan’s nipples were a darker, slightly pinker brown than his skin, how they tightened when Ryan was cold, or, or turned on—

Ryan placed a hand on Shane’s chest. “Hey,” he said, voice abruptly low and very serious. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I—” Shane blinked. “I don’t?”

“I mean, the Owen Grady look is kind of working for me.” Ryan’s hand fell to the edge of the vest. “I was teasing, but, uh—look, if you want to, um, you know, I would not be opposed. Or whatever.”

“Ryan, I—” Shane squeezed his eyes shut. “It isn’t the outfit.”

A pause. Then: “No?”

“I mean, it is,” Shane said, still with his eyes closed. “But it’s because it’s you in the outfit, it’s you and it’s you looking for treasure and having _theories_ and—fuck, it’s because it’s you.” He groped for something to say that would make Ryan understand. “You’re what I’d hide in the woods if I almost died.”

_THAT WAS A TERRIBLE METAPHOR_ , his brain informed him.

Ryan didn’t say anything for a total of thirty-three excruciatingly long seconds. Shane counted them, trying to think about anything other than what he’d just confessed. At second thirty-four, Shane said, “Okay, well, I’ll go tell TJ that we’re switching rooms—”

Ryan’s hand touched his cheek, light, just the fingertips arcing along from the edge of his cheekbone down to the hinge of his jaw. “Hey,” Ryan said. “Look at me.”

Shane reluctantly opened his eyes and then had to blink a couple times, because Ryan was _smiling_ at him. “Yeah?”

“Shane,” Ryan said, very seriously, “that was romantic _as fuck_ ,” and kissed him.

It took a moment for his, wow, extremely pessimistic brain to catch up with what was happening, and by the time it had started yelling _!!!!!!_ he had already wrapped his arms around Ryan’s neck to kiss him back. Shane didn’t realize he was pushing Ryan against the door until Ryan’s back thudded against it and Ryan let out a surprised breath against Shane’s mouth. “Sorry,” Shane said, not very coherently.

“Get this stupid vest off,” Ryan said.

“I thought you liked it!” Shane protested, but then Ryan kissed him again and it was much more urgent that Ryan finish taking his shirt off than confirming whether or not the Owen Grady look actually did anything for him.

Ryan’s skin was tacky with sweat, the small of his back still damp; Shane loved the feel of it, sliding his hand over and up, to those nipples he’d stared at, to the base of Ryan’s throat to thumb at the space between his collar bones, Ryan tilting his head back as Shane pressed his mouth to his pulse point. Shane fancied he could smell pine on Ryan from their hike, though maybe it was just a sense memory, and he chased that fancy from Ryan’s ear down his chest to the waistband of his jeans.

“Oh no,” Ryan said. “You aren’t putting my dick in your mouth while you’re still wearing that hat.”

“Will you stop fixating on what I’m wearing?” Shane demanded, looking up from where he was unzipping Ryan’s pants.

“I’m just saying, a guy’s gotta have standards,” which was bold coming from a dude whose dick was literally in Shane’s hand.

Shane rolled his eyes and snatched the hat off his head, throwing it to one side, and then yanked Ryan’s jeans down to his knees. “Any more requests before I suck you off?” he asked.

“No, I’m good,” Ryan said. Shane was pleased to note that his voice was much less steady now.

Shane was rapidly learning the taste of Ryan’s skin, the particular tang and musk of his sweat, and the first rush of _scent_ when he tugged Ryan’s briefs down was enough to knock him over. He pressed his forehead against Ryan’s hip, steadying himself with his palm flattened to the door. Ryan’s hand landed on his, fingers overlaying each other, and Shane turned his cheek, rubbing his day’s stubble on Ryan’s leg.

“Shane,” Ryan said, voice wobbly.

“Mm hmm,” Shane said. He pulled back to look his fill, Ryan mostly naked against the hotel door with his hard cock arching toward his stomach. He was, god, he was gorgeous. Shane pressed his lips to the tip of Ryan’s dick, tongue flicking out for a taste. Ryan moaned, and there was a _clunk_ —his head on the door.

Shane took Ryan into his mouth nearly slower than he could bear; he felt greedy for it, for every inch Ryan would give him. The overstretched feeling of Ryan’s cock in his mouth, weighty and hot, was unbearable. Shane wanted to press a hand to his own crotch, give himself something to buck up against, but instead he found himself stroking up and down the side of Ryan’s hip, mesmerized by that small stretch of skin. He lost himself, a little, wrapped up in the slide of his hand, the slide of Ryan’s cock in his mouth, the absorption of it all, and then Ryan was pushing him off and Shane was frowning, trying to push back.

“I’m gonna come,” Ryan said, gesturing for Shane to move before dropping his hand to his dick. Shane rolled his eyes and leaned back in, lips meeting Ryan’s fingers as Ryan swore and started to come, pulsing sticky and burning over Shane’s mouth and tongue and chin. Shane surprised himself with a whimper when the tip of Ryan’s dick slid, briefly, back between his lips; he felt himself teetering on the edge, desperate to come himself, the need for it snaking through him.

“Oh shit,” Ryan said faintly. He cupped Shane’s face, swiping his thumb through the mess on his chin and mouth. “Shit, Shane—hey, can you stand? Let’s get you to the bed.”

“Yes, bed,” Shane said, “good plan,” and he nearly fell over trying to stand, his knees surprisingly sore.

“Yeah, not as easy now that you’re an old man, huh?” Ryan teased, hand going to the small of Shane’s back to guide him. Shane fell onto Ryan’s bed and stared down at Ryan, miraculously naked, as he tugged off Shane’s shoes and socks before kneeling on the bed to get at Shane’s pants.

“Old enough,” Shane said nonsensically, and then, “ _Fuck_ ,” when Ryan eased Shane’s jeans down. Ryan’s eyebrows went up and he grinned.

“Well, well, well,” Ryan said. “Look what we have here.”

“Skip the preliminaries and get to the main show,” Shane said, words coming in spurts and starts. “I’m into you, you get it, let’s go.”

“It’s just, there’s a world of possibility open to us,” Ryan said. “But I guess we have time,” and before Shane really had the opportunity to appreciate all the implications of that statement, Ryan had clambered over to rest between Shane’s legs and was taking Shane’s dick in his mouth.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Shane said feelingly. _OH FUCK!!!!_ his brain agreed, and he came.

“Okay, wow,” Ryan said a minute or an hour later, Shane had kind of lost all grip on the passage of time. He had sat up and was wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking. “You, uh, you really liked that costume.”

“I told you,” Shane said faintly. “It isn’t the costume.”

“Yeah, I know, I—“ Ryan looked at his hand, made a face, and rubbed it against the duvet. “I just, you know, I don’t know, uh. I mean, like, same. I’m not into the Owen Grady thing. Not that I’m not into it, uh, when you’re in it.”  
_  
_ “Ryan,” Shane said, throwing an arm over his eyes, “my brain has been scrambled all day from lust and heatstroke and trying to decipher the crazed ramblings of an eccentric millionaire.”

“I’m _saying_ ,” Ryan said, slapping Shane’s leg, “you’re my treasure in the woods too.”

Shane moved his arm hesitantly and saw that Ryan was staring firmly down at the bed, a faint flush in his cheeks. “I am?”

“Don’t fucking make me say it twice, I feel like an idiot,” Ryan said. “I never thought—look, you’re just about my best friend—”

“ _Just about?_ ”

“—I have a brother too, okay, you’re in my tier of best friends, and I’m trying to say that I love you, in a more than platonic way, _you idiot_ ,” Ryan said. “Although now I’m seriously questioning why.”

Shane pushed himself up onto his elbows. “I, well. Same. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Ryan said. “Sure.”

They grinned at each other, and then Shane sat up properly so he could kiss Ryan again, which was frankly a little gross by that stage, but still perfect and amazing.

“Maybe,” Shane said when they broke apart at last, “the real treasure was the—”

“Don’t fucking say it,” Ryan said, covering Shane’s mouth. Shane licked his palm, and Ryan yelled, “Gross!” and Shane said, “You just had my dick in your mouth!” and Ryan said, “But that I chose!” and then Shane was kissing him again and he forgot how he was going to end the joke.


End file.
